The opening of Napoleon Solo's eyes
by MLaw
Summary: It's thanksgiving and Napoleon comes to a realization... (pre-saga) # 5 in the Bowery Mission Series


It was nearing the end of November, specifically the fourth Thursday of the month which was traditionally the day on which Thanksgiving was celebrated in the United States.

For the last few years Illya Kuryakin had spent that particular holiday helping out at a place known as the Bowery Mission. It was a basically a refuge where the less fortunate or indigent could find a good hot meal, and sometimes a bed on which to rest their weary bodies.

It had been a cold autumn so far and the Mission was filled to capacity when it came to helping those in need.

Though they had to have the help of volunteers all year round, Illya would donate his time, depending upon his schedule. Once he'd discovered the Bowery Mission, he made himself available to volunteer at least on Thanksgiving as Mr. Waverly did not, as a rule, send agents out into the field on a new assignment unless absolutely a necessity.

It was a time when the powers that be in the world of megalomaniacs, THRUSH and despots worldwide seemed to just take the time off from their nefarious plans giving those in the States a break, albeit a short lived one, but every little bit helped.

Sadly though, this would not be one of those years Kuryakin would be available as he times as he found himself on assignment in Iran. Formerly known as Persia, images of it evoked, for most people, tales of Arabian nights, and Ali Baba and the forty thieves, but sadly that was the farthest thing from reality.

The march toward becoming a modern country with Ayatollah Khomeini's exile to Najaf coincided with the assassination of prime minister Hassan Ali Mansour and in the meanwhile foreign firms, especially American ones, had been pouring into the country and among them was the usual suspect, T.H.R.U.S.H.

Illya was there to observe and report any activity by the feathered ones.

He sat in his hotel room, thinking back on the first time he'd met the feisty Claire Shaw, at the Bowery Mission. She was a strong and determined woman who ran the place. An attractive older woman; he had a great admiration for her strength of will and tenacity for someone of her age. *

He was missing being there with her behind the serving counter; rolling up his sleeves as he helped to dole out meals for so many familiar faces, and many new ones as well.

Once everyone had been served, he and Claire would disappear to her office for their own turkey dinner; joined as usual by many of the 'house' cats his friend had adopted over the years.

His favorite had been 'Dash', a black and white long-hair who never walked anywhere, and hence his name. ** When Kuryakin was there, the cat would head directly to his lap as soon as Illya sat down.

One hand was used to feed himself, the other was to pet Dash and give him a treat from his plate.

Yes, he was missing that…

.

Napoleon Solo had no plans for Thanksgiving. His Aunt Amy and the rest of his family were abroad. Every one of his lady friends he'd hinted at to get together with him for dinner already had plans. Illya was off on assignment. Pretty much everyone he knew was planning to be with friends and family for their holiday respite.

That was a little disconcerting…

Solo didn't relish the idea of sitting home alone. The only restaurants open were Chinese and Thai. It didn't seem right having either of those foods for Thanksgiving, nor did the idea of making a whole turkey with all the trimmings, just for himself.

He picked up his communicator as he was awake earlier than usual, and called his partner in Teheran. It was around ten in the evening there and he figured he wasn't disturbing the Russian's beauty sleep.

"Kuryakin here."

"Hi there, how's it going?"

"Peaceful for once. What are you doing up so early, is it not Thanksgiving...or are you cooking one of your bountiful turkey dinners?"

"No actually I'm a little down as I have nowhere to go, or said turkey dinner to prepare. It seemed everyone has plans that didn't include me."

"Ahh so you are bored already?"

"How'd you guess? Makes me wish I was off on assignment with you?"

"Though I am flattered you miss me that much, trust me when I say, this assignment is tedious and uneventful, so much so that I will be flying home tomorrow."

"That's good in a way I suppose chum."

Solo sounded completely forlorn to the Russian. He knew Napoleon was a man of action and just wasn't happy not doing anything, even if that 'doing' involved a woman, at least it was something to keep the American occupied.

"I have said it before my friend, you need a hobby."

"Yeah I know…"

"There is something you could do. It would help me out as well as others and be fulfilling."

"What's that?"

"Go assist Claire at the mission. She could always use extra help and since I am not there to do so, it would be as if you were substituting for me."

"You know my smart Russian friend, that's a great idea. Thanks!"

"No, thank you Napoleon. Happy Thanksgiving. I know you will enjoy yourself. Now it is time for me to sleep as I have an early flight in the morning. Kuryakin out."

Napoleon showered, shaved, dressing in more casual clothes for once; a nice set of slacks, a polo shirt with a cardigan and suitable he thought for the occasion.

He called for a taxi, taking him to 227 Bowery and as he stepped out in front of the heavy bright red doors he took a deep breath. Having been there once before with his partner, he knew what to expect; so many people...men, women and children who were stuck between a rock and a hard place.

They were in a state of poverty year round and he supposed it was a shame that people only remembered them on holidays. He was guilty of that himself he supposed, and maybe he should mend his ways. Perhaps spending less time wining and dining women and more giving back to the community was in order.

As Solo stepped inside, he was instantly greeted with a big smile by Illya's friend Claire.

"Napoleon? What a surprise! Welcome! You coming to pinch-hit for my Illya, I hope?"

She didn't waste time handing him an apron and hustling him to get behind the counter to ladle out some delicious smelling turkey stew. Along with that, there was sliced turkey, ham, yams, potatoes, carrots and green beans, with the most delicious smelling biscuits just waiting to be smothered in butter and gravy.

There were trays squash, stuffing and cranberry sauce and though the line went on and on, there was plenty of food for all.

He looked around at a sea of smiling faces, laughing children eating their meals and thoroughly enjoying themselves. Despite their situations, a good food and a safe haven brought back a glimmer of hope in their eyes.

Hope that meant there was a chance for them to have a better life, hope that the Bowery Mission was but a brief stepping stone to assist them along their journey. If it wasn't, then at least those stuck in the revolving door of poverty had a friend in Claire Shaw and the mission that would be there for them year round.

Seeing this made him all the more appreciative of the home he had, and friends like Illya, April and Mark Slate. They weren't just fellow agents, they were his extended family.

Though their lives were ones of peril, it was a life of their choosing and not thrust upon them like the people here at the mission. This day wasn't about food, or friends; it was, from his point of view, about appreciation and giving back...not receiving.

Napoleon sighed to himself as he wiped his brow with his sleeve.

"Yep, this was a better Thanksgiving than he thought it would be…"

Looks like he'd be doing this with Illya next year, or maybe not. Maybe he'd come down here to help out when it wasn't a holiday...


End file.
